


A Hostage Situation (defo working title)

by TheTricksterStoleMyShoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But Not Much, Canon Divergence, Crowley is a Little Shit, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Hurt Gabriel, Just so Gabe is back, M/M, Okay a lot of Destiel, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Sam Winchester, Sabriel - Freeform, i promise it happens, little bit of Destiel, man that's a lot of eventuals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTricksterStoleMyShoe/pseuds/TheTricksterStoleMyShoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone thinks Gabriel is dead. </p><p>Until he turns up at the bunker, barely alive and (literally) collapses on Sam. He's got almost no idea how he got there or where he's been for the past months. His grace is leaving him and his vessel is badly injured. In his desperation, he turns to the Winchesters for help. Or rather, one of the Winchesters. </p><p>His arrival triggers two mysteries for Sam Winchester: </p><p>1. What the hell happened to Gabriel?<br/>2. Why does his heart pound like he's a twelve-year-old with a crush when Gabriel looks at him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at titles. And summaries. If you have any suggestions for how to improve either, I would be eternally indebted to you :) 
> 
> This takes place at an indeterminate time because I'm a lazy arse. Basically, they live in the bunker, Kevin is alive (but not present), Sam is not possessed, Castiel is living there too and Dean hasn't got the Mark. It's at one of the lulls between big bads, but you can expect some spoilers, so be warned. 
> 
> If you read, thanks :)

There’s someone banging on the bunker door.

Sam, Cas and Dean are sat around one of the long tables in the main room. They exchange glances, although Sam notices with a mild interest that Cas only looks to Dean. _More profound bond my ass_. Either the angel hated Sam, or there was something more than _deep connection_ going on between his brother and the angel. His money was definitely on the something more. His brother had been declaring his heterosexuality like it was going out of style, and something was definitely up.

The banging got a little less urgent, the thumps coming a little further apart and a little weaker. Sam stands up, “I’ll get it.”

Dean and Cas follow him to the base of the stairs, and he knows that Dean’s gun is already in his hands. They’re being paranoid, but he feels it’s fair. Nothing good ever knocks on their door. He opens the door so suddenly, that the person on the other side falls straight into Sam. He catches them instinctively, scrunching his nose at the sudden inexplicable scent of sweetness that wafts in with the stranger.

The stranger who is apparently covered in blood.

Sam pushes them back a little to look at them, and he can’t help but gasp, “Gabriel?”

The archangel does not look good. There’s blood all over him, wounds on his back, sides and head. There’s a gash above his eyebrow that’s bleeding into golden eyes that are swollen and ringed with purple. Gabriel grips Sam’s forearm for balance, “I didn’t know. . . Who else. . . I need. . . Please.”

With that, his head lolls forward. Sam hooks an arm under the angel’s knees and hoists him up. Dean and Cas are watching in shock. Dean shakes his head, “What the hell. . .”

Cas is frowning, “I thought Gabriel was dead.”

“He was,” says Sam, “But now he isn’t. And I need to put him down somewhere.”

Dean sticks his gun through the back of his jeans, “Use the spare room beside yours. It’s mostly clean.”

The archangel is heavier than he looks, even for Sam, so it’s a relief when he lays him out on the bed. He has no idea how to care for an angel- they’d always seemed to look after themselves. He’s surprised by how worried he is. Yeah, Gabriel helped them beat Lucifer (admittedly, through the medium of bad porn, but still), but he’d also tricked them more times than he could count. Sam didn’t think he’d ever shake the memories of those endless Tuesdays, watching Dean die.

Then, he’d gone and been killed by Lucifer to save Sam and Dean, therefore evening the score. But if he wasn’t dead, then that just confused things. To confuse them even more, he had just turned up at their door and asked for help, then fallen unconscious. And finally, to put a cherry on the ice cream sundae of confusion, Sam felt an overwhelming relief at seeing the archangel that he just could not explain.

For another reason that he could not explain, he wanted to be with the archangel when he woke up. He told himself that it was because Gabriel might be dangerous. He told himself that it was for their safety. Yet he knew that wasn’t quite true. So he sat there, on a chair beside the bed, with one eye on a book and the other on the unconscious angel. Dean and Cas checked in a couple of times, but they didn’t seem nearly as concerned.

When at last the archangel does awake, it’s with a loud gasp that makes Sam drop his book. He is beside the bed in an instant, “Gabriel?”

The archangel groans and turns his golden eyes on Sam, “Yup. One and only.” His voice is hoarse and weak, but there’s a trace of the old trickster in it.

“Are you. . . What happened? What’s going on?”

Gabriel coughs, and there’s blood on his lips. Sam tries to hand him a cloth to wipe it away, but he archangel is too weak to even move his arms that far. Hoping against hope that Dean is far away, Sam gently dabs the cloth over Gabriel’s lips. The archangel grunts, “Nannied by a Winchester. Maybe this is still the Apocalypse.”

“Gabriel. What happened? What’s going on?”

The archangel hesitates, as if he’s thinking about what to tell Sam, “Something is wrong. My grace is shot. I don’t know how I-” He coughs again, and Sam automatically catches the bloody spittle in the cloth, “I don’t know. But I got beat and I can’t heal.”

Sam nods, “What do you need? Uhhh. . . Water?”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows, “Time, Winchester, I need time. And maybe an angel who’s still got some juice.”

Sam nods again, “I’ll get Cas.”

When he looks back at Gabriel, the archangel is unconscious again. He’s definitely right about one thing- something is terribly wrong here. There’s a whole lot of questions eating at Sam right now, but they can wait. Right now, he needs to see if Cas can do anything.

Cas and Dean aren’t in the main room of the bunker, nor are they in the kitchen. Sighing, Sam heads to Dean’s room, calling out before he gets there so he won’t walk in on anything he’ll regret seeing. He’s glad he did. Cas and Dean are sat on the bed with an acceptable foot between them, but Cas’s hair is mussed and Dean looks guilty enough that Sam suspects they weren’t just admiring the bedspread. He resists the urge to tease Dean- that can wait until Gabriel is better.

When Cas sees Gabriel, he stops in the doorway and frowns.

Sam notices the expression, “Castiel? What is it?”

Castiel walks slowly towards his brother, “Something. . . Something is wrong with him.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, “Yeah Cas, I think we can all see that.”

The look Cas gives Dean is reproachful, but he elaborates, “His grace is weak. I do not understand. For an archangel, this is worrying. There’s something else but I’m not sure. . .”

“Can you help him though?” Sam asks, “He says he can’t do it himself.”

Castiel turns his gaze on the unconscious archangel, “I can heal his vessel, fine. But I do not feel comfortable attempting to heal Gabriel himself. I fear I would make something worse.”

Sam nods, biting his lip, “Well, do that then.”

Castiel reaches out and puts his hand on Gabriel’s forehead. He closes his eyes and Sam watches as Gabriel’s wounds close up and disappear, the skin resealing itself over them. Castiel’s brow is furrowed, “He should wake soon. His vessel is healed, but I can do nothing for his grace. Healing an archangel is beyond me. I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam nods, “Thanks Cas.”

“It’s no problem.”

Castiel lets Dean lead him out of the room. Over his shoulder, Dean shouts back, “Call us if you need us, Sammy.”

Sam takes his seat beside the bed. He’s still not sure why he’s so concerned, but the one thing he does know is that he wants to be the first to see those golden eyes when Gabriel wakes. And he wants to be the first thing seen by those golden eyes. On some level, that’s a disturbing thought, but he pushes it down. For once, he just wants to not second guess himself.

His thoughts are interrupted by a soft moan, and he looks down to see Gabriel looking up at him blearily, “Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Sam doesn’t know quite what to say to that, so he ignores it, “Castiel healed your vessel, but he says he can’t do anything for whatever else is going on. Something about your grace. He doesn’t know.”

Gabriel rubs his hand across his face and when it comes away, his eyes are much clearer. He makes a movement, a small puzzled noise coming out when he only lifts himself a few inches off the bed before slumping back down. He looks at Sam unhappily, his voice small, “Help me sit up. Please.”

Sam nods, and puts his hands under the archangel’s shoulders to lift him up. He arranges the pillows behind him, quickly enough so it doesn’t look like he’s fussing.

“Something has a part of me. A part of my grace.”

“What. . . What would do something like that?”

Gabriel shrugs, “Don’t know kiddo. Anyone. Not exactly like I made a bunch of friends in my time on Earth.”

“Oh,” and then a pause, “Gabriel. . .”

“Hmmmn?”

“What happened to you? After that night in the hotel, with Lucifer. We all thought you were dead.” _I hoped you weren’t_ , he adds silently.

Gabriel sighs, “No clue, kiddo. Lucifer didn’t kill me, I don’t think. That wasn’t me he stabbed. But he did something. Reached through the projection, maybe, I don’t know. Then everything was dark for a long time.”

“And then?” Sam prompts.

Gabriel gives him a look, “And then I wake up, surrounded by demons with half my grace gone. I get away- just enough juice to fly myself over here and that’s it.”

Sam pauses, “Wait. . . How’d you find us? The bunker is warded against angels. Even you.”

Gabriel winks, “Trade secret, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy.” The reaction is automatic, and he kind of doesn’t mean it. Dean’s the only one that calls him that and it always sounds wrong on someone else’s lips, but somehow it’s alright when Gabriel says it.

Gabriel doesn’t seem bothered. He’s got a small smile on his handsome face, and Sam has the horrible sneaking feeling that the archangel is reading his mind. At the thought, Gabriel looks up at Sam, his smile growing, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Sam fixes him with his best persuasive look, “Please don’t, Gabriel. It’s just. . . It makes me uncomfortable.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but his voice is sincere, “Fine. How could anyone resist that puppy-dog look?”

Sam just shakes his head and changes the subject, “So, how are you feeling?”

Gabriel frowns, “Weak as a kitten. My vessel is fine, perfect health actually. But without my grace, I think I’m gonna need to rest up before I can get around.”

“Well, rest you can have.” Sam stands up. He should probably go and tell the other two that Gabriel is awake. He also really wants to get out from under the gaze of those golden eyes. There’s something intense there and it’s not necessarily bad, just. . .well, intense. At the door, he looks around and adds, “Gabriel. . . I knew you weren’t. . .” He stops and says instead, “Stay as long as you need.”

As he walks out of the room, he hears Gabriel say, “Thanks, Sammy.”

He’s not sure why his heart is pounding.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel is up and moving around the bunker within a few days, although he seems less than impressed with his lack of mojo. Sam has to make a special grocery run to get him all manner of sweet foods, from strawberry pancakes to chocolate eclairs. Dean complains, of course- he’s still fairly pissed off with the archangel for all the stunts he pulled on them as the Trickster- but he doesn’t stop Sam from filling up the cupboards with sugary snacks.

Sam has been researching things that could take an archangel’s grace. He’s been doing it in secret. He isn’t exactly sure why he doesn’t want Dean or Cas to know- maybe he just doesn’t want Dean asking him why he cares so much about Gabriel. Sam is stubbornly ignoring all of those thoughts and trying to focus on the problem at hand. He knows it must be something powerful, really powerful- archangels aren’t around to be messed about with. There’s a list forming, but nothing on it really seems likely. In all honesty, he needs more information from Gabriel.

But he’s loath to actually ask. If Sam is honest, he’s been avoiding Gabriel. He knows he can’t control the thoughts that come into his head every time those amber eyes are turned on him and he can’t guarantee that Gabriel will uphold his promise and not read his mind. He really can’t have an archangel of the lord see what Sam thinks about when Gabriel is sucking a toffee or running his tongue over a lollipop- something he does irritatingly often.

One day, Sam is lounging on his bed, a book open on his lap. There’s a pile teetering beside him on his bedside, old leather journals that the Men of Letters kept. He’s been scouring them for days, hoping for any mention of archangels at all. They’ve already been through the rest of the lore and this is all he has left.

“What’cha reading, Sammy?”

Sam jumps, hitting his elbow off the headboard with a painfully loud crack. Gabriel is standing in the doorway, twirling a wrapped lollipop around his fingers. Sam coughs and slams the book shut, embarrassment clouding his mind, “Nothing! Uhh. . . Just, research. You know.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows and kicks off from the door to move closer to Sam, “Oh? Researching what?”

Sam has regained some of his cool. He puts the book to one side and decides to be honest, “I’m looking for anything that could be capable of stealing an archangel’s grace.”

Gabriel shakes his head, “Not all stolen. Mine is just. . . split.”

“Split?”

Gabriel points the lollipop at his chest, “Part of my grace is still in here. Without the rest, it’s weak, and I used a lot of it up to get here, but it’s there.”

“So if the rest of your grace wasn’t stolen, then where is it?”

“I never said it wasn’t stolen,” Gabriel frowns, “Well, I guess I did. Never mind. Point is, it can’t be used for anything. That’s my grace. Archangel grace. The power is only unlockable by me. Whoever’s holding it can’t do a damn thing with it.”

“So if it’s useless, why would anyone steal it?” Sam asks.

“Sam! I thought you were the smart one,” says Gabriel, making tutting noises, “For leverage, maybe, to blackmail me. Or just straight up weaken me. But I’m guessing leverage because I think the thing that has my grace is the thing that kept me all sealed away for all this time.” Gabriel takes a seat at the foot of the bed, “ _Aaand_ that same thing let me out. I’m guessing they want something.”

Sam looks at him seriously, “Do you know what has the power to do that?”

Gabriel shrugs, “A few things. I was weakened after Lucifer stabbed that projection. I was nearly broken, almost dead. I needed time to heal." Gabriel gives a short, humorless laugh, "My brother is a tricky guy- he almost killed me with that one.”

“But he didn’t.”

Gabriel shoots Sam a look, “If you’d let me talk. . .”

“Sorry.”

“So there I was, in hiding, weak and a little confused. And then next thing I know, everything goes black. And stays that way. Until about a week ago when I woke up in the middle of a room of demons with a headache the size of Mars.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s right, kiddo. Just a big blank space.”

“So what do you think could have done it?” asks Sam, attempting to steer Gabriel towards his original question.

Gabriel runs his hand through his golden hair and Sam tries very hard not to think about it, “If a demon had enough power behind it, then maybe. But you’re looking at top tier, executive kind of power. Not your average black-eyed delights. A couple other things, but they ain’t likely.”

“What about angels? Could they. . ?” Sam trails off at Gabriel’s look.

The archangel’s eyes blaze, “My brothers and sisters would never do something like this. An angel’s grace. . . To be separated from it is something terrible. It is a loss of our connection to Heaven, to each other. No angel would. . . No good angel would. . .”

Sam reaches out a hand, gripping Gabriel’s arm tightly in what he hopes is solidarity, “I’m sorry, I know. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Gabriel seems to shake himself. He looks a little deflated, “I don’t believe any angel alive could do it. My older brothers, the other archangels, they are all dead or imprisoned.”

Sam removes his hand and gives Gabriel his sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry.” He reaches for one of the books in the pile, “I’m looking into everything I can find on archangel grace- something will turn up. We’ll get it back for you.”

He opens the book and starts to read, but he can feel Gabriel’s gaze boring into him. It’s difficult to concentrate on the words, and after about ten minutes, Sam looks up, “What?”

The fire has faded from Gabriel’s eyes and left only tired amusement. He leans back and unwraps his lollipop thoughtfully, “Why are you doing this, Sam?”

“What?”

“This,” Gabriel gestures at the books, “You don’t have to help me, not any more than you have already. Why are you?” He pops the lollipop between his lips and sucks, looking expectantly at Sam.

“You helped us, before, to stop the Apocalypse.” The answer doesn’t sound full, even to Sam’s ears. He knows that isn’t all.

Gabriel knows it too and he grins at Sam, twirling his lollipop around his nimble fingers, “And?”

Sam doesn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the movement of the lollipop around Gabriel’s fingers. He doesn’t really have an answer, so instead he asks a question of his own, “Why do you have such a sweet tooth? I thought that was just the Trickster’s thing?”

Gabriel smirks at him, but doesn’t mention the change of subject, “And where did you think the lore on the Trickster came from?”

Sam frowns and tilts his head to the side, “From you?”

“Bingo,”

Sam considers this for a second, “So you invented the whole trickster god thing.”

Gabriel shrugs, “Well, yeah.”

“Huh.” Sam takes a moment to consider this. He’s always assumed that Gabriel just took on an existing role when he ran away from Heaven. Sam had imagined him watching a trickster at work and deciding it looked like fun. But, well, it looked like Gabriel really had carved out his own corner of the world. He’d invented himself a whole mythology to hide in. Quite impressive. Then Sam remembers something and says, “Wait. I didn’t think angels could taste food, not like humans. I thought you guys just tasted down to the atom- that’s what Castiel says it’s like.”

Gabriel pulls the lollipop out of his mouth with a loud pop, “Well, dear Cassie has not been around on Earth for as long as I have. There’s a lot you can teach yourself, if you have the time.”

“Right.”

Sam doesn’t really know what to say to that, and Gabriel doesn’t offer anything, so he picks up the book again and settles back into his original position. He forces himself to focus on the printed words, the feeling of the paper edge against his fingertips, the spine of the book digging into his thigh. Anything except the feeling of Gabriel’s eyes staring gently at him. He doesn’t know what to do with that kind of attention. It’s not a challenge; there’s nothing aggressive in Gabriel’s gaze. It’s just interest, a soft observation that Sam isn’t sure what to make of.

After a while, he looks up and throws Gabriel a book, “If you’re gonna stay, you might as well help.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but opens the book and begins to read. Sam feels oddly bereft without the weight of the archangel’s eyes on him. However, it is much easier to concentrate. Gabriel still throws him little glances that Sam can’t help but meet, but they’re less distracting than the full pressure of Gabriel’s gaze.

 

  
* * *

 

  
After another week, it becomes clear that Gabriel is feeling better. Sam is woken one morning by the sound of Dean’s angry shouting. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sam stumbles to the kitchen to find Dean standing in the middle of the room, gesturing wildly and shouting. Gabriel is perched on a chair, laughing hysterically.

Sam looks accusingly at Gabriel, “What did you do?”

It’s Dean who answers, “Sammy! He needs to leave!”

Sam stares at his distressed brother, “What did he do?”

“I improved his diet,” says Gabriel casually, his voice smooth.

Dean shoots him a poisonous look, “He filled my pie with rabbit food. My pie!” Dean points a finger at his own chest to emphasize his point.

Sam frowns and peers at the slice of pie on the counter. It does indeed seem to be filled with salad. Sam looks at Dean incredulously, “That’s it?”

“It’s pie, Sammy. Pie is sacred.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair and says wearily, “Gabriel, turn the pie back. Dean. . . Just leave it.”

Dean rounds on Gabriel and Gabriel holds up his hands as if to shield himself from the waves of aggression that Dean is sending him, “I don’t know, Samsquatch. Seems to me that Dean could stand to lose a few.”

Dean scoffs angrily, “Says you.”

Sam shoots Gabriel a warning glance before the archangel can retort, “Gabriel! We all know you hate salad just as much as Dean. Now turn it back.”

Gabriel meets his eyes and smirks. He leans back in his chair, all dramatic and snaps his fingers with an air of complete weariness, “Fine. The pie is back to normal.”

“Honestly, it’s like babysitting toddlers,” says Sam as he slaps Dean on the back on his way to join Gabriel at the table. Once seated, he regards the archangel with interest, “So. If you’ve got the juice to waste on a dumb prank, you must be feeling better, right?”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste,” says Gabriel. In the background, Dean snorts, a reaction that makes Gabriel’s smirk widen. At Sam’s patient look, Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Yes, the part of my grace still accessible to me has mostly recharged.”

“Alright,” says Sam, nodding, “That’s good. Especially since I found a way to trace your missing grace.”

Gabriel leans forward, suddenly serious, “You did?”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” says Dean from behind them, “Who said we were helping him get his grace back? He’s just going to go back to messing with people.”

Gabriel almost looks offended, “I would not!”

“Look, Dean, he helped us and we have to return the favour,” Sam looks imploringly at his brother, “Plus, whatever is powerful enough to hold archangel grace is definitely not something we want running around unchecked.”

“But it’s mainly because Gigantor here has a soft spot for me,” says Gabriel, winking at Dean.

Sam glares at Gabriel. Dean harrumphes and wanders off, back to his pie, muttering something incoherent under his breath. When he’s gone, the archangel puts his elbows on the table and sets his amber eyes on Sam, “Show me what you got, kiddo.”

Sam pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, “Last night I was going through the Men of Letters journals again and I found an account of a spell that was done to trace an angel’s grace. It was just an ordinary angel, _but_ there was a lot of theorizing about how the spell would work with archangel grace. It’s not been done before, but. . .” He pushes the piece of paper over to Gabriel, “I wrote down the details of the spell. You think it could work?”

Gabriel considers it carefully, “Not bad, kiddo. I don’t know for sure, but it’s worth a try.”

Sam grins, “Great! There’s a few ingredients that we don’t have though, but that shouldn’t be a problem. . .” Sam looks back to see Dean leaning against the counter, eating his precious pie and scowling murderously at nothing. Sam has to hold back a smile when he calls out, “Hey, Dean, when is Cas getting back?”

Dean almost chokes on his pie, “How would I know?”

Sam can feel his mouth trying to twitch into a smile, “I don’t know, dude. Just tell me when he gets back. We need him to go on a grocery run.”

Dean huffs and walks out of the room, still scowling. He takes his pie with him. Sam notices Gabriel about to snap his fingers and instinctively reaches out to push the archangel’s hand down. He doesn’t even notice the contact until Gabriel looks at him and then it’s suddenly like his hand is on fire where the palm is pressed up against Gabriel’s skin. He snatches it back suddenly, rubbing his thumb over the area to stop it tingling. He manages to choke out, “Leave Dean alone. He’s pissed at you enough.”

Then he leaves to take a shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed :)
> 
> I also take requests, so feel free to leave one. My email is on my profile as well as some more info on requests.
> 
> Once again, thanks :D


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